


The King In Yellow

by Haunt_Haunt_Haunt



Series: Vicky [1]
Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Fayetteville Arkansas, Hormones, I'm not too sure where I'm going with this, Movie Night, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Read at Your Own Risk, So I'm Just Rolling With It, Sorry Not Sorry, These Characters Are Hormonal Rage-Beasts, graphic depictions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 03:59:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16569209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt/pseuds/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt
Summary: Vicky is trying to figure out how to explain her feels for Oz, and he is being a dumb boy about it.





	1. Movie Night

It was Saturday night. That meant that it was movie night at Oz’s house, and I looked forward to it. It was one of the few times I got to hang out with Oz and my best friend, Amara that wasn’t school. Also, it helped that Oz was the nicest guy I knew, and he was also incredibly attractive. I got hot under the collar just thinking about him sometimes. I got out of the shower and began blow-drying my hair, then, when that was done, grabbed the fork next to my makeup and jammed it in the socket. Pain is beauty after all. The lights flickered as I was visited by the Ghost of One Thousand Volts. I left the fork in the socket for a few seconds, not like I could control it. My muscles were spasming so the fork came out when it came out. Luckily it didn’t last too long this time. It wasn’t like it was going to kill me. It just hurt, but I got a burst of energy, so there was that.  
My hand spasmed and let go of the fork, but I panicked when it didn’t come out of the socket, which was smoking, so I grabbed the rubber gloves I kept for this occasion and yanked it out of the wall. There was a little bit of smoke still curling out of the socket, so I was going to have to replace that, but that was okay. I fluffed out my now expertly curled hair and put on a bow. I chose my white one with black polka dots. I decided to do a skirt with the same theme and a black tube top, but I made sure to wear my special lace underwear. You never know.

Continuing my ritual, I went down to my living room where Amira was waiting impatiently.

“Are you going to be ready sometime today, Vic?” she asked. I smiled.

“I’m working on it. I had a small problem with the fork today. It almost caught the bathroom on fire.”

“You need to be more careful with that. I told you to get something like a generator or extension cord.”

I decided not to say anything. I knew that her curtness wasn’t her fault. She meant well. She was just abrupt and blunt sometimes.

“You should also lock your door. I walked in here no problem. You’re too trusting.”

“I live in a good neighborhood,” I said, opening the bread. I decided on a grilled cheese sandwich. I thought about offering Amira one, then giggled at my unintentional pun.  
“Just because you’re a good person doesn’t mean your neighbors are. You’re gonna end up with someone stealing your underwear or otherwise robbing you, someday.”

“I’ll be OK. I have you don’t I?”

She smiled. “Damn right, but one of these days, I’m gonna have a girlfriend to deal with. That’s why you need to be able to fend for yourself.”

“Do you want a sandwich?” I asked. I didn’t want to think about spending less time with Amira. She was my best friend, and I didn’t want to think about us drifting apart.

“Cute pun. No. Oz is going to have food. He always does.”

“Oz is a good guy, but his cooking scares me sometimes.”

“It isn’t his fault. His cultural cuisine leaves a lot to be desired. Human is apparently a staple in the Abyss.”

I opted not to say anything again. She knew how I felt. It was her who convinced me to start doing movie night in the first place. It just made me kind of uncomfortable that he ate human. I used to be human. When we came over, he cooked some stuff from the Abyss, but he always made substitutions for us. It was just one of those base incompatibilities.

“You know, you could cook for him sometime,” Amira said, intruding on my thoughts.

“God, Amira. I don’t want to kill him.”

“Your cooking is some of the best I’ve ever had. You can’t just crush on him for the rest of your life. Take some initiative. Get laid.”

“I don’t want to just have sex. If all I wanted was sex, I’d date Damien again. It was all he was really good at anyway.”

Amira joined me at the table as I sat down, shoving grilled cheese in my mouth.

“Why did you date Damien in the first place?” she asked. I had never told her, or anyone, the truth about that.

“It was a phase.”

“Vic, you don’t have a mean bone in your body, and that’s all Damien is. It wasn’t a phase.”

I thought for a moment. Did I really want to dive into this right before I had the closest thing to a date with the boy I liked?

“Damien is… different alone. I got to see that.”

“Different? Look, if you don’t want to talk about it—“

“I don’t right now. I’m sorry, Amira.”

“Don’t be, sweetie. You can always say no. Like I said, stop being so nice. It’s none of my business. Now, finish your sammich. We need to get moving.”

I gulped it down and grabbed my purse, locking the door on the way out, and got on my bike. I had never really seen the point in getting a vehicle. They just clogged up the roads, and even if I was a monster, I still cared about the environment. A bicycle was just greener. Amira got on her motorcycle that was parked in the driveway. I pulled up beside her and snapped on a helmet.

“I’ll meet you there. Be careful,” she said over the roar of her engine. I silently hated it. It was just so loud and unnecessary. One of these days, I was going to go out with Brian and put a muffler on the damn thing. Outwardly though, I nodded and she pulled away. Oz’s house was only a few blocks away, but it was still a good workout, which is one of the reasons I always biked there. I had some time to be alone with my thoughts. One of these days, I was gonna go over there by myself. I knew he’d let me in. We were good friends, and part of me worried that if we did date, it would ruin what we already had, but you were more likely to be compatible with someone if you were good friends with them. It was a hard decision. Amira was right though. I couldn’t just silently crush on him, and I knew how this would go too. I’d say something and he’d get all embarrassed like he normally did, and then not much would change. The problem was both of us hated taking charge. I didn’t see it going well.

But yeah. Maybe show up on my own one day after school. I might bring flowers. Could you bring boys flowers? I don’t see why you couldn’t. Maybe he’d like that. Cook for him instead of him cooking for me, maybe watch one of my movies. I had good ones. They weren’t classic pieces of cinema like his, and they sure as hell weren’t art-house shit like Liam’s. Oz liked things like Nosferatu and Ed Wood.

And suddenly, I felt like Blazing Saddles was going to be bad. He’d hate that. I was at the house before I could do much more thought. It was cozy looking, really an apartment. He paid rent and was in a complex. I was lucky to have been left a house in the will. I parked the bike next to the dumpster and looked up. It was about to rain. I hurried inside. He was on the end of the complex and on the bottom; number 9. Amira’s bike was already here. I walked up and almost knocked on the door, but I heard voices. The window was open. I knew it was wrong, but I listened anyway.

“So what do you think of Vicky?” Amira asked. I cringed. I didn’t need her help.

“She’s a good friend. I’m lucky to have met her,” he said in reply. I loved his voice. It was soft and boyish, even though he was some kind of shadow monster and you expected it to be the screams of tortured souls.

“But what do you think of her? Like, romantically-wise.” I was going to beat her. Or at least try.

There was a pause.

“I guess I hadn’t given it much thought. Why?”

“I was just curious. You guys seem to be pretty close, and I would kill for her. I guess it’s a protective thing.”

“You guys look nothing alike or I would assume you’re sisters.”

“We might as well be. Anyway, if anything does happen, I think you’re a good guy.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

There was silence. Amira had made it awkward like always, so I knocked on the door. She answered it.

“Hey. Took you awhile,” she said and moved to let me in.

“I fell on the way. It hurt. I’m over it,” I said, walking in. Oz was in the kitchen, cooking. He was always so gorgeous when candid.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking over at me.

“Yeah. I’m fine. I popped a stitch, so I was fixing it.”

He smiled and went back to cooking. I wondered if he knew I was listening. He could control shadows, so could he see from them? That was absurd; at least, that’s what I told myself. He had My Chemical Romance playing on the television. It was Black Parade. He and I both stopped what we were doing and put our hands over our hearts. Amira had no idea what was going on.

“The fuck?” she asked.

It’s the national anthem. I feel more patriotic to this than our fucking country right now,” Oz said. He was charging up his hyperbeam. That was another thing. He was a Monster of Color, and the current orangutan in charge was really racist, and Oz was really socialist. I jumped in to defuse the situation.

“Listen to the words. It’s about perseverance in the face of extreme social opposition. Also about being nice to others.”

“It sounds like pots and pans to me, but alright,” she said.

“So what are you cooking today?” I asked.

“It’s human loin with a soda glaze, but I’m substituting the human with pork and adding liquefied human soul to the glaze.”

“That sounds really good, actually,” Amara said.

“You’ll eat anything as long as it’s meat,” I said.

“That is objectively false.”

“And we are watching Bela Lugosi’s Dracula,” he continued.

“God, don’t tell Liam. He’ll freak,” I said.

“Has anyone asked him how he feels about vampires being mainstream now?” Oz asked. Amira cackled.

And that was how most of the night went. We ate the food, which wasn’t super good, but Oz did the best with what he had, and we watched the movie. At some point, we turned into a parts pile on the couch, which always happened. He ended up putting his arm behind my head, so I rested on his chest, and Amira had her head on my lap. I played with her fire the whole time. By the time the movie was over, she had fallen asleep. She usually did. It was one of the few times I got to talk to Oz alone. His breathing was steady and I had to wonder if he breathed because he had to, or if he used to be human like me.

He reached down and put the music back on, but turned it down. It was a thing with us. We had similar tastes. Today was a My Chemical Romance day.

“She’s asleep again,” I said, silently wishing that he would just let me lay there, but he usually always got up. Today was no exception. He stood and started cleaning up plates.

“I don’t think we’ve had a movie night where she hasn’t. We tried that one time. She nodded off most of the night.”

“Do you want help?”

“I’m just doing dishes. It looks like you’re a better pillow. This is a one-butt kitchen anyway.”

“You’re a good pillow too. What If I wanted you to stay seated?”

“All you have to do is ask, but I’m up already,” he said and turned on the sink. Amira snapped awake.

“No. Water,” She mumbled, half awake and trying to sit up.

“It’s fine. It’s just the sink. The movie is over,” I said. She had a reputation for being the biggest bitch at school, but I figured it was because no one got to see this.

“Oh. Right,” she said and sat up, rubbing her eyes, then looked outside. “It’s coming down. Do you want a ride home?”

I looked outside too. It had started raining heavily. I could use this to my advantage though. Amira was right.

“I mean, I’m just going to get wet on your bike too. If Oz doesn’t mind, I want to try to wait it out,” I said and looked her in the eyes. She seemed to understand.

“I don’t mind, but not too long. I have to work in the morning. Someone asked for time off. I also have a car and not a death trap, so I can give you a ride. Your house would probably be nicer than my studio.” He gestured around. He wasn’t wrong. Poor guy had his bed pressed against the wall in the corner.

“Well, I don’t see any reason to stick around then. It looks like Vicky wants to talk to you anyway. Dinner was amazing. Thanks again for hosting.”

Oz smiled and we said our good-byes. She put on her helmet before she went outside. She never did say what happened when she got wet.

“Do you think her fire gets frizzy?” Oz asked. He was standing close and I almost didn’t hear him, so the joke didn’t register at first. I started cackling. He went back over to the sink and started scrubbing his dishes.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” he asked, and it caught me completely by surprise.

“Oh, um. I just don’t feel like we get a chance to talk. You’re always at work once school’s out, and your always sleeping in on Sundays.”

“Well, I’m a busy person. No one can man a register like I can,” he said with a smile.

“I guess I’m lucky. I got a lot willed to me when my dad died. I have enough money to probably never have to work.”

“It’s not so bad. I get yelled at by customers, barely get paid, have way to many hours, have no benefits, and my grades are falling on top of it because I can’t do my homework, but I get by. It’s better than working back home. Kidnapping children and torturing souls can get tiring.” He put the plates on the drying rack and sat back on the couch next to me.

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“Not really. It’s life. Life is hard. I can’t just quit because of it. I actually plan to get a scholarship in college, and use the money from Federal Aid to cover all of my rent so that I don’t need to work when I’m enrolled. High school is hard enough.” He checked his phone and stood, grabbing his keys.

“I should get you home. I can pick you up after work tomorrow so you can get your bike.”

I stood and stretched. I could have sworn he was looking at me out of the corner of his eye, but there was really no way to know.

“That’s okay. I can walk over tomorrow. I need the exercise.”

“You need exercise?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I’m fluffy.” I poked my stomach.

“They call that thick with two C’s where I come from, but it’s your body.” He extended the umbrella and handed it to me. It was a good thing it was dark outside. Otherwise, he would have seen me blush.


	2. Alone

A few days later and I still hadn’t gone to get my damn bike. I was mostly waiting for the courage to knock on his door while I was there. I figured that the best way to do this was spontaneous. I’d just show up with the flowers. I had decided on a bouquet of Stella D Oro daylilies. I knew he liked yellow, and they were pretty and smelled nice. All I had to do was go and pick them up. I couldn’t though. I was terrified. What if he was at work, or he was tired, or in a bad mood. I was killing myself with variables. My phone buzzed.

King in Yellow: Hey. Are you going to come get your bike? Cause the trash people almost took it today. I had to move it under the porch.  


Fuck. I forgot that I left it next to the dumpster.

Ms. Frankenstein: I forgot honestly. I can come get it today. Do you want to maybe hang out since I’m gonna be there anyway?

King in Yellow: I’m off today if you want to stop by, but my house is a mess.

Ms. Frankenstein: I’ll be there soon.

I decided that if it was going to happen, it needed to happen soon, but I was a mess, so I got in the shower and started my ritual all over again. There wasn’t going to be time to get the flowers, but I figured that would be fine. I had plenty of time to perfect how I was going to ask him out. I really needed my bike. When I got out of the shower, I gave my naked self a once over and remembered what he had said. Thick with two C’s. I got out my razors and took care of the hair under my arms then trimmed up the rest, then got into my closet. Amira had given me some of her old clothes that fit me a few months ago, and she could pull them off. I settled on some skin tight denim shorts and a tank top. It was a hot one today anyway. I was caught between fun or functional when it came to my underwear, and decided that function was a better idea. I didn’t have any plans to be seen in my underwear anyway, so briefs it was.

Not too long later and I was walking to his house. It was a nice, sunny day and everything smelled clean, even in the middle of the city. I was impressed with our current mayor, Lioneld Hookman. He truly cared about the environment, and the city was exceptionally clean as a result. It didn’t take long to walk to Oz’s house. It was hard going though. It was just a little too far to walk, and his house was at the top of a hill. I preferred biking. When I got there, sure enough, he had moved the bike under the porch. I paused outside of his house. There were birds chirping, and when I turned around, I could get a panoramic view of the surrounding hills, and our sleepy little town nestled in them. People were going on about their business. There was music drifting from his window. It sounded like The Weeknd. I turned and knocked on the door. He opened it. He too was dressed differently. When he was at school or on movie nights, he usually wore a button down with a jacket and slacks, but today, he was in a black t-shirt and jeans. It was almost hard to see where his skin ended and the shirt began.

“Hey. I didn’t know you owned anything that wasn’t semi-formal.”

She knew what she was wearing had an effect. He was slow to respond.

“I… uh… same,” he sputtered out then let her in.

“I’m so sorry it’s a mess in here. I usually just throw my clothes in the floor during the week and clean up on Saturday after work.” He started picking stuff up from the floor.  
It looked like he was on his computer in the corner. His living space really wasn’t large. It was 600 square foot at most and he had room for a desk, a couch, an entertainment center to put the television on, a living room table and a dresser in the weird walk in closet/bathroom annex. At least there was a washer and dryer set up, but it was tiny.  
“It’s okay. Live your best life,” I said and started helping him by getting the paper plates and plastic cups off the table.

“I can do it. Don’t worry. It’s not your job,” he said, but made no move to stop me, so I kept going.

“I want to help you. You look needlessly stressed out.”

“I just wasn’t expecting company and got caught up in my writing when I should have been cleaning.”

I put my hand on his shoulder, and the physical contact was like electricity through my veins. If my heart could have beat, it would have sped up. He looked at me, and his form flickered. Like it was phasing in and out of existence.

“It’s okay. I’m starting to think that you keep your place so clean just to impress me. Do you maybe want to come to my house?”

He looked around like he thought I was talking to someone else.

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to impose, and I’ve never been inside.”

“I mean, it has central air and not a window unit,” I said, wiping my forehead.

“Oh! Oh god that’s not even on. I forget that people get hot,” His form flickered again. I was curious.

“Are you ok?” I asked. He moved past me and turned on the window unit. I silently thanked the lord.

“What do you mean? Do I look bad?” He asked.

“No. You really don’t, like, I mean… You…” I started getting frustrated. Damn my honesty. “I mean, you keep flickering. Almost like when a game you’re playing skips a frame.”  
He started doing it again and it lasted a bit longer.

“Yeah. Like that.”

“Um, I just do that when I’m embarrassed. It’s like how you blush. I do that instead.”

“Oh.” I figured that that should have been obvious. I was not at the top of my game today.

“So, if you want to go to your house, I don’t mind. I just need to do a thing real quick,” he said and grabbed something from his dresser, then went into his bathroom.

I wondered for half a second if I should listen at the door, but decided that would be really creepy. He came out not too long afterwards and grabbed his keys.

“It’s mostly downhill from here and it’s a nice day. I figured we could walk,” I said. He nodded.

“House keys,” He said. “I do need to get home before six though. It’s supposed to rain. Don’t let me forget.”

 

We walked back to my place. I decided to walk my bike since that was the whole reason I said I was there anyway.

“Can I ask a personal question?” I asked.

“I reserve the right to not answer.”

So, what’s it like in the Abyss? Mr. Slenderman doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Yeah. There was a big war not long ago. He served. We’ve talked about it a little. It’s almost like the Underdark. A whole country underground. It looks that way too, but technically, it’s a different dimension. There was a big war between us and the angels in Heaven, so my family filed for refugee status. The war ended two years ago and they wanted to go back, so I emancipated myself and stayed here. I wanted to finish up high school here.”

“Do you miss it?”

“You know, I get asked that a lot,” He said and looked at me.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“No, it’s fine. It just sucks to be different sometimes. I don’t miss it, really. If I liked it that much, I would have gone back with my parents. Everyone there is so… cold. Everything is done logically and analytically, and we are taught to avoid strong emotions. It sucked.”

“Wait, why do you avoid emotions?”

He stopped walking for a moment. And raised his fist. He closed his eyes and slowly opened his fist. A black butterfly made from coalesced shadow appeared and fluttered away before slowly dissipating. My jaw hit the floor.

“I knew you could control shadows, but I had no idea you could do that.”

He started walking again. “We do more than control shadows. There is a caste system in the Abyss. When you are born, you are a certain color, and that color decides what caste you are in. For example, Mr. Slenderman is part of the white caste. He can teleport between shadows in different dimensions, and can take others with him. In the Abyss, the white caste is in charge of transportation. But the reason for controlling our emotions is that they decide how our powers work. Let’s use Mr. Slenderman as an example again. If he were happy, he could teleport to the dimension of Elysium, while, if he were angry, he could teleport someone straight to Hell, so, in order to use our powers correctly, we are taught to control our emotions and focus on small memories so that we can control our powers.”

“That… honestly, that’s really cool and really sucks at the same time. I don’t know what would have happened if I was taught to not have emotions.”  
“Oh yeah, babies are the worst because they don’t understand anything yet. There are fates worse than changing diapers. There are special nurseries for all the castes for this reason.”

“So you know what my next question is, don’t you?”

He sighed. “I am a member of the black caste. They call us Shapers. We are usually leaders and warriors. I can create objects out of coalesced shadow. When you hear the stories of our people growing tentacles or wandering around with shadow blades, chances are you’re hearing about a Shaper. We usually guide and direct the people of the Abyss, and we are full of idealists.”

“Um, you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” I said.

“Honestly, my frustration comes from the fact that this is all on monsterpedia, but it’s natural to ask. I assumed it would come up at some point.”

We got to my house. I pulled out my garage door opener and put my bike up. It was a two car garage, but there were no cars.

“So next time I come over, I can park in here, right?”

“You betcha.” I closed the garage door and opened the door. It led through to my kitchen.

“So, want me to make lunch?”

“I can eat. I don’t want you to be put out though.”

“I offered. It’s no problem.” I started getting out sandwich material and watched him out of the corner of my eye. I had a big house. My dad was a famous scientist and doctor, so we never hurt for money. He wandered around, inspecting the art and baubles I had displayed. I finished the sandwiches and brought him one, which he ate, silently.

“You don’t talk much.”

He shook his head. “I observe. Talk is cheap sometimes. Actions betray a lot of intentions. It’s harder to fake micro expressions than it is to tell a lie.”

I panicked for about two seconds. Could he read minds? I gulped.

“For example, I can tell that you are uncomfortable with silence, because you specifically brought it up, and you panicked because I said that I read micro expressions, which is a completely logical thing to do. It’s a skill that’s easy to learn. Autists have to do it all the time as a survival mechanism.”

“So, are you… umm.” I immediately shut my mouth off. That was a terrible thing to ask.

“First off, that was rude, second, would it matter if I was? Autism is just a different operating system for the brain. Think of it this way. Allists run Windows, and Autists run Mac. The work completely different, but the end result is the same. It’s not a disease like a lot of people think, and it’s incredible rude to assume that just because Autists are a minority that means there is something wrong with them.”

I was quiet for a minute.

“Sorry. I get kind of fiery sometimes.”

“No no. I was the one that was rude. You had every right to snap at me. I just didn’t realize how intense you were until we were alone.”

He snorted. “I’m all the rage at parties.”

“Well, if you don’t want to talk, let’s do something. I also have movies, like Blazing Saddles. Although, you may not find that funny.”

“First off, I don’t mind talking to you. I’m sorry I gave you that impression. I was just explaining why I don’t talk much. Second, I don’t mind movies. I’m down. Third, Blazing Saddles is hilarious because it’s satirical. It was written by a Jewish human. It’s supposed to show everything wrong with that era in a humorous way.”

I really didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t given much thought to this part of the plan. I was still stuck on how to get him alone, and here he was, in my house, and I didn’t have any idea what to do.

“Well, I’m suffering from foot in mouth disorder today, so maybe a movie is safer.”

He nodded. He wasn’t super helpful, but he did sit on the couch, so I figured that this was the plan. I bent over and got into the movies.

“Umm. Vicky?”

“What do you want to watch?” I looked back at him, and he shrugged like an idiot. He was flickering a lot. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“I don’t really know how to say this properly and respectfully, so I’m sorry. Those pants were made for you to bend over in them.”

I had completely forgotten what I was wearing and immediately flushed red. He was flickering. It was a really awkward situation.

“I umm. Sorry? I mean, was it a bad view?” I didn’t know what to say, so I just started talking.

“Well, not exactly? I mean, I didn’t know we were there in our relationship.”

“Wait. Relationship?” I asked like a dumbass. He squirmed uncomfortably.

“Could I use your restroom?” he asked. He was almost out of reality. I just hung my head and pointed, and thank god the gorgeous idiot left.

I took a minute to compose myself. That was incredibly embarrassing. I went up the stairs while he was gone and put on my sweatpants. When I came back down, he was back on the couch in the exact same spot, and he was entirely solid.

“Anyway, what movie do you want to watch?” I asked, entirely avoiding what had happened just a few minutes earlier. It looked like he was doing the same thing.

“What do you have?”

 

We ended up watching Moana, then Frozen, then Brave. He was really into Disney. We both lost track of time. By the time we had realized it, it was dark out. He opened the front door. The rain was coming down pretty heavily.

“Well…,” he said.

I got up and went over to him.

“On the plus side, I have a guest room.”

He nodded and closed the door. “Cats and dogs.”


	3. Masks

He sat back on the couch.

“Well, I always did want to cook for you,” I blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“You have?” He looked at me.

“Well, your cooking is good, but sometimes I just want to cook.”

He nodded. I got up and went into the kitchen. He followed me and then sat on a counter. I pulled out some chicken that was already thawed and started making chicken Monterey. He was silent until I spoke.

“So, I’ve wanted to talk to you about something for a while, and now, since you’re trapped in my house, the answer will be mine. Muahahaha!” I was trying to brace myself for rejection. It was time. It wasn’t like I had pictured it, but it’d do.

“Yes. You can eat my soul. I’ll just pull it out for you.”

“Maybe later. No. I wanted to talk about our relationship.”

He slid off the counter.

“So, I like you. Like, a lot. And I think you’re cute, and I kinda wanted to know if you wanted to date.” I quickly pulled out a knife and started chopping fat off the chicken so I could look at that and not at him. He was quiet for a long time. I risked looking at him. He wasn’t even looking at me. His face was really contemplative and he rested his chin in his hand. I started sweating. Was it really that hard of a decision?

“Okay,” he said finally.

“Um, alright, but that’s not an answer,” I said.

“No. It wasn’t. It was an affirmative, as in, I heard you and will give a response in three to five business days. I want to see how the rest of the night goes before I decide.”

I wanted to kill myself. I went back to prepping dinner. “So let’s play a game. Let’s pretend like we’re dating, so you can see what it will be like.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. I think it would be fun, and we could ignore all the tension that there will most definitely be.”

“Alright. I guess I can do that. So what’s on and off the table?”

“Nothing. There are no rules. We’re dating. Act how you would if I was your boyfriend.”

“Fine.” I put the knife down in a moment of bravery, walked over to him, and kissed him on the lips. It was surprisingly soft, and more surprisingly, he yielded. I expected him to push me away, but he just let it happen and kissed me back. I pulled away in shock, no doubt bright red. He was flickering a little.

“You just let that happen,” I said in shock.

“Did you think I was joking? I told you. There are no rules,” he said. He reached out and grabbed my waist with his hands, and then pulled me close and this time, he kissed me. I didn’t resist him, hell; I had been fantasizing about it for a while now. He pulled away slowly, and I immediately turned around and started working on dinner. I was burning up. There was no way I wasn’t turning purple at this point. He seemed calm and remained quiet. His silence was damning.

“So, that was nice,” I said. He was right. I was so uncomfortable with silence.

“Mmhmm.”

So, do you like chicken?”

“I have no opinion. It’s human food.”

“Do we want to talk about what just happened?”

“Are you offended?”

What could I say? Of course I wasn’t, but he must have known that.

“No?”

“Then what is there to talk about? People that date also kiss. Usually often. I also wasn’t the one that initiated it. You were. Do you feel like you did something wrong?”

“I just don’t want this to be the only time that happens, because I like you and would like to continue kissing you a lot.”

“You’re panicking.”

“And you’re the devil.” I fell back into my old routines. Damien used to fuck with me, and I would call him the-singular-devil because he hated it. I immediately regretted it. Oz walked over and put his arms around me, forming an X on my chest with his arms.

“Don’t panic. Everything will be fine. Just because we may not date doesn’t mean we can’t have a relationship that allows kissing. You’re getting wrapped up in titles. It’s entirely possible to have a just romantic or just sexual relationship. Dating is to see if you want to spend your life with that person. That may not be the case for us, but I’m not going anywhere either way.”

I grabbed his arms. He had never been so caring before. I shuddered a little and took a deep breath, then wrapped the chicken with bacon and put it in the oven.

 

We ate and ended up back on the couch, watching Parks and Rec. He also really liked this show and shows about human workplaces in general. We were on the third episode when I said something.

“I want to lay on you.”

“Sorry?”

“You know, like we’re dating. Not just because it’s movie night.”

He extended his arm and I fell into my spot on his chest and put an arm on him. I wasn’t really watching the show. I couldn’t just ask to smell him though, could I? I felt his chest through the shirt. He was surprisingly solid, like he worked out. I couldn’t resist and snaked a hand up his shirt. I had to know. Sure enough, he had definition to his slender form. He wasn’t like most people think of when you say they’re muscular. Most people think of a model or a body builder. He was more like whipcord. He wasn’t outwardly muscular, but I had no doubt that he could lift me if he wanted to. He seemed to have more definition to his core than his arms.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked. He was flickering again. It had to suck to be so obvious.

“Just feeling around. You’re more muscular than I thought you would be.”

“I do push-ups and sit-ups,” He said, but his skin was almost heating up. Was he aroused? I didn’t really know how to tell.

“Are… Are you—“

“Enjoying this immensely. It feels great.”

“So we are dating, right? I can do whatever?”

“If I withdraw my consent, I expect it to be followed.”

I pushed him gently down on the couch and took his shirt off of him, then ran my fingers down his torso. He squirmed and shuddered at my touch. I had to wonder if anyone had touched him this way. He was the odd man out at school and the only reason I got to know him was because Amira knew him from class. I kept running my fingers down his stomach, then lightly kissed his chest. He inhaled sharply but said nothing and closed his eyes, lightly placing a hand on my head. I slowly worked my way down his chest, across his stomach, and down to the button of his jeans, then used my tongue and licked him all the way back up. He shuddered at the contact, and pulled me to his mouth and kissed me. This time he wasn’t just teasing. He used tongue.

I was lost at first, not expecting to make out with him. I expected to play with him and then be done, but I slowly picked up what was going on. We made out for a while, and he ran his hand up my side, lifting my tank top with his fingers. I pulled away from him and ripped it off, getting drawn into what was happening, then pressed my mouth back to his. He didn’t seem to complain, and ran his fingers along my back and danced around my bra strap, but didn’t take it off, always the gentlemen. I wondered if I was going too far by taking it off, and slowly sat up. He took his hands and ran his fingers along the curve of my breasts, then down my sides to the tops of my hips. His eyes spoke volumes. He wanted this, but didn’t want to ask, so I lowered myself back down and bit his lip while also unhooking my bra and dropping it to the floor. I took his hands and placed them on my breasts.

He almost recoiled at first, but slowly caressed my breasts then lightly pinched my nipples. I shuddered and gasped. It was a good feeling. I was used to it being rough, but Oz was gentle. Almost shy. He lifted himself up and put my nipple in his mouth. I just stayed where I was, sucking in breath every time his tongue passed over my sensitive tip. He started biting, and every now and again, an involuntary moan would escape my throat. I wanted him in me, but I didn’t know what he wanted, and I didn’t want to go too far. I could feel him, pressed against my thighs. I knew he was hard, and I was getting wet. I pulled my breast away from him and caressed his inner thighs, getting the blood moving. He didn’t stop me, and looked like he wanted more, so I unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down, leaving him with nothing but the tight fabric of his boxer briefs. I lowered my head and began nibbling at his thighs, and the sounds that were escaping his mouth could only have been pleasure. I stayed there for a while, resisting the urge to strip off his underwear and put all of him into my mouth, but would he have stopped me? I tested, placing a hand on him. He wasn’t overly long, but it was still going to be a tight fit. He was definitely thicker than I had been with. I had completely saturated my underwear at this point, and he had a wet spot where the pre cum had seeped into the fabric. I slowly slid my hand up and down, but still, it seemed okay. His hands found my waist band and pulled down my sweatpants. I regretted my choice of functional over fun, but at this point, I don’t think either of us cared. I grinded against him but was careful not to press my full weight. He was absolutely throbbing, but I wanted him to feel what he was doing to me. He kept his hands busy either playing with my breasts or running his nails down my back gently. He pulled my face back to his.

“I want you to fuck me,” he said in a whisper. It was all I needed. I ripped my underwear off and lowered his, then fit him inside of me. It was a tight fit, but I was so thoroughly saturated, lube wasn’t needed. We both moaned as his thick cock slid into me, and I sunk him all the way down as deep as I could get him. I started gyrating on top of him, and he started breathing heavily. He also pulled out of sync with me for maximum feeling. It didn’t take long for either of us. I felt the orgasm coming like fire in my spine, and I didn’t try to be quiet about it. I wanted him to know how he made me feel. I could feel him stiffen up and feel a surge of warmth inside of me, but he didn’t make a sound. He just locked up. I let myself fall on him and I laid there for I don’t know how long. Eventually, I fell asleep.


	4. Play Dates

When I woke up, Oz wasn’t there. It looked like he hadn’t been for a while, but there was a blanket on me. It looked like one of my spares from the closet. My thighs ached and it felt like I had been ripped open, sans bleeding. He was way too thick. Then I remembered we had sex. I sat up and looked around. I was in my home, on my couch. Oz was nowhere to be seen and the sun was out and shining. I was naked though, which was to be expected. There was also some unidentified stain on my leather couch. I didn’t want to think about what that was. I stood and stretched, not caring that my blinds were open, and stumbled into the kitchen. There was paper on the coffee pot. I looked at it.

Had to go to work. Didn’t want to wake you up. Had fun last night. We need to do it again sometime.

Oz

I sighed, forgetting that some people work over the summer and started brewing coffee. It felt like it was over too soon. I grabbed some wipes and cleaned off the couch, then went upstairs to get dressed. Today was a lazy day so sweatpants and a tank top was the wardrobe of choice. I heard the unmistakable sound of Amira’s Indian in my driveway, so I went down stairs and had the door open before she could knock. Her hand was raised and everything.

“Good morning. You look like trash,” she said. I mumbled something snarky and vaguely sexual, and she followed me in.

“Coffee?” I asked, making real words.

“Sure. What happened? Did you sleep on your couch? Was it a Tierra de las Reyes marathon again?”

“More like Pasión Prohibida.” I said, pouring two cups and making hers like she liked it. She folded the blanket and put it on the couch, and noticed my pile of discarded clothing on the floor.

“You sure you’re okay? Were you drugged? Why are your clothes in the floor?” She started to get really worried. I leaned against the counter, raising the coffee to my face.

“I’m fine. Wake up first, talk second.” I wasn’t looking forward to this. She was going to rip on me. It was too damn early. I slid her cup in front of her and got in the freezer, putting waffles in the toaster.

“Eggos?”

“I’m fine. I ate. Girl, seriously. You look like…” Amira stopped as it dawned on her. I knew she would get there eventually. Her worried expression turned to a scowl.

“Where is he? I told you that if he called, not to answer the phone. He’d just be drunk. Did you invite that red bastard over?”

“Amira, shut up.” I managed. She immediately did so.

I turned around and put my waffles on a plate, smothered them in syrup, and sat at the table, munching sleepily. That couch was not good for me. I stretched my back and there was an audible pop.

“It wasn’t Damien. I haven’t spoken to him for months.”

She was turning stuff over in her head and a light bulb came on. Attagirl.

“I don’t see him here making you breakfast,” she said, as I had suspected. Amira was predictable. I slid the note he left over to her in reply. She looked it over.

“Good for you. I knew you could do it.” She was beaming.

“All I wanted to do was wake up, eat my waffles, and binge T.V., but no; you had to show up…” I was feeling more like myself.

“Yeah yeah. I knew that he was sweet on you. It was painfully obvious.”

“Yeah, but he was weird last night. I’m starting to regret my decisions.”

“Boys are generally weird. This is why I avoid them.”

“He wouldn’t tell me if he wanted to date me or not. He said he had to think on it, but we slept together anyway.”

“Are you happy with that? I’m sure he would discuss it further. Oz isn’t one to shirk from responsibility or hard conversations. He’s oddly intense.”

“Yeah. Imagine not having a buffer person. I had the trademark Oz experience last night. It wasn’t unpleasant. He’s just really intense when you’re alone with him. Like he’s peering into your soul the whole time you speak.”

“Do you think he has that ability?”

“Anyway—“ I continued, not wanting to travel down that road. “He talked about not wanting to make a decision until he could see how the night turned out, and then decided to play a fun game where we pretended that we were dating all night, which in itself wasn’t too bad, but then I got close to him, and he wouldn’t stop being all hot, and hormones happened.”

“And you fucked him.”

“And I slept with him. Yes,” I confirmed.

“Do you regret it?” She asked, sipping her coffee. She was looking over the rim of the cup at me.

“Stop it. I hate that look,” I said and looked at the table.

“Do you?”

“Not no?”

“So, following this to its logical conclusion, Victoria –“

“Stop.”

“If you did something and it felt good –“

“No.”

“And you didn’t regret it afterwards –“

“I hate you.”

“Then there was nothing wrong with what you did and you are beating yourself up over nothing. Again.”

“You said the same thing about Damien.”

“Yeah, but I made no secret that Damien was bad news. You’re the one that tried to rationalize it. Oz doesn’t have a mean bone in his tiny body. Well, except maybe one.”

I coughed into my coffee and spewed it across the table in professional form. She started cackling. There was a knock on the door.

“Expecting someone?” She asked. I ignored her and went to the door. It was my neighbor and other best friend, Brian. He lifted up his toolbox.

“Was that today?” I asked, completely forgetting that we had a day planned.

“Uhh. Yeah,” he said.

“Hey, Amira.” I went back in the house. Brian waited on the porch. “I promised Brian that we were going to work on his car today. Can you take care of yourself?”

She got up from the table. “Hey Bri. Yeah. I’m fine. I might hang with you guys later if that’s alright. I have some errands to run and was in the neighborhood which is why I dropped by anyway. That and you didn’t answer your phone all night.”

“I was a bit busy,” I said, heading up the stairs to put on real pants. When I went back downstairs, Brian was staring off into space down the hallway.

“I’ll see you guys later. Don’t forget. It’s game night,” Amira said.

“Ready?” I asked him.

“Umm, sure.”

 

His dad’s auto shop and scrap yard wasn’t far. Brian personally drove an old pickup truck, but he and I were working on a ’68 Shelby Cobra. I didn’t know a lot about cars, but I was learning, and Brian was some kind of savant with it. He just had a mechanically inclined mind. We pulled up to his dad’s shop, the Mechromancer, and walked towards the unused auto bay. That was Brian’s bay where he could work on whatever he wanted. His parents were really supportive too. His dad was working on someone else’s car in the bay next to us. I waved at him when we went by. He was an older man with graying hair. His name was Kyle Day. He waved back at me but went back to work.

“So, uuh, I found a workable radiator that will fit the Cobra and uuh, we’re missing a fuel system.”

I pulled out the ’68 Shelby mechanics book and read up on what we would need.

“It says here that we need a carburetor for the fuel.”

“Uuh, yeah. We’re going to put in fuel injection instead. Remember, modern parts, old chassis.” He started pulling on the chains with his incredible strength and pulled the engine out without assistance. I always wondered how someone so strong could be so chill. That’s just who Brian was, and that’s why he was my other best friend.

“Uuh, I need your hands.”

I went over and started tying down the chains holding up the engine. This was the other reason I helped him. I had small hands and could get into the hard to reach and small parts. Besides, this was a passion of his, and I wanted to be supportive. He’d done similar for me.

 

We worked for about an hour before his mom, Misty came out. She was rocking her usual Stevie Nicks-esque attire and had lemonade.  
“Hi, Mrs. Day,” I said as she offered me a glass.

“Just Misty. You know that,” she said with a smile. Brian grabbed a glass and took a swig before crawling under the vehicle. He had found his fuel system.  
“Well this thing is just coming to life isn’t it? You two work well together.”

“I couldn’t have done it without Brian. He’s doing most of the work. I just stand around and hold things.”

“Nonsense. I’ve seen you crawl in there. You’ve got a mechanic’s spirit. Just like your daddy.”

“Thanks, but my dad was a doctor.”

“No. He was a necromancer. We carpooled to conventions together. That’s how you’re here.”

“I mean, they’re kind of the same thing. He just used science.”

“We all have our ways. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to work. It’s gonna get hot today, so remember to rest.” Misty went back inside. As she opened the door, Rhiannon drifted throughout the garage.

“Uuh, Blowtorch,” Brian said. I grabbed it and handed it to him, as well as his welding mask, then put mine on. Mine was customized. He painted it to look like it had stiches. I thought back while he was busy. We met innocuously enough. He moved in when I was still small and my dad introduced us. He had known Misty for a while, and was the one that convinced the Days to move to Monsterville. Brian and I had been friends for what felt like our whole lives. He was also the only person I knew that came to my father’s funeral, and he was the only one there that made sure I was okay after. He would always come around, telling me about these wild technological things he was building, and now, he was letting me help. He was truly my best man friend, while Amira was my best woman friend. I was lucky to be surrounded by good people. He stopped welding and rolled himself out from under the vehicle. His welding mask was painted like his face, but with pieces having fallen off.

“So, uuh, are you going to tell me what has you in such a good mood?” He took his gloves off and lifted up his mask, leaning next to me.

“Every day is a good day when you’re in a filthy t-shirt,” I said, poking his stomach.

“Funny. I mean it.”

“No judgment?”

“Did you call Damien?”

“Why does everyone think that? No. I spent time with Oz last night.”

He was quiet for a minute, and then lifted his glass to his lips. “Good. He’s a good guy.”

“No talk about how you’ll kill him if he hurts me?”

Brian set his glass down and put his gloves back on. “If I’m doing my job right, he knows that already. Saying something like that is bravado, and it causes needless confrontation. Besides, I’ll just kill him if he hurts you. Now, hand me that wrench.”

We worked for a few more hours on the car before calling it. His dad needed his help anyway, but the Cobra was almost finished. I was giddy. It feels good to have your hand in creating something from nothing.

“uuh, I’ll come by later tonight. Mom said that umm, I could bring some dinner for you, so uuh, I’ll do that.”

“Great. I’ll see you tonight then,” I said and got my bike out of the back of his truck. Amira never came by, but that was okay. We were all supposed to get together tonight anyway. I had half a mind to text Oz, but I felt like I was being needy. Damien was bothered by how much I had messaged him. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes. Turns out I didn’t need to. As I came around the corner, I saw a terrifying sight. Oz’s car was in the driveway, and he was standing in front of my door in his work uniform, but Damien’s car was blocking his, and it looked like they were having some kind of argument.

Oz’s body language said a lot. He was standing upright, with his feet spread apart, and his hands were clenched into fists. He had a bored look instead of an angry one. Damien was his typical self. He was such a bully.

“I’m sorry, you don’t live here, and you have no right to go in,” Oz said flatly.

“And you don’t tell me where I can and can’t go, Slender boy.”

Oz’s eyes swung to me. Damien must have seen it, because he turned around.

“Vicky. There you are. Who’s this dweeb?”

“His name is Oz, and he’s right. You need to leave. You can’t just show up here anymore.”

“You weren’t so upset a few months ago. If I remember, we had a wonderful night.”

Oz spoke. He put a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “I think you need to leave, friend.”

Damien didn’t say anything. He turned and punched Oz on the cheek, who understandably landed on his ass on the porch.

I could hear Amira’s Indian from a mile away, and she was coming down the road, which was good because I needed backup. Oz stood and went back to his position. Damien grinned, and hit him again. Oz went down again. This time, his left eye was stuck closed. Before more violence could break out, Amira’s bike had hopped the curb and stopped moving in my yard. Damien knew better than to toy with her. She got off the bike and took off her helmet. Her eyes could have made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Damien smiled and walked off the porch towards his car.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he said to me. I just looked down. I couldn’t with him.

“Hey. If you got something to say, devil boy; you can say it to me,” Amira barked. Damien just got in his car, flipping us off as he drove away.

“You okay?” Amira asked. I shook my head and walked up onto the porch. Oz was holding his cheek but managed to stand back up.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine. I wanted to set a good example, so I didn’t fight back. Toddlers need that.” His eye was still closed and it was discolored and puffy.

“Let’s get you inside and get something cold on this. Amira?” I took his keys and tossed them to her. She was already moving her bike in the garage. It was going to be a tight fit getting Oz’s car and Brian’s truck in there with Amira’s bike, but they would manage. She was also moving my bicycle inside. I took Oz inside and sat him at the table, then went and got a baggie and filled it with ice. He took it, but didn’t say anything, pressing it against his eye. Amira came in through the garage door.

“So, what was that all about?” She asked, taking another seat at the table.

“He just showed up. I left some stuff here and needed to pick it up, but Vicky wasn’t home, so I figured I’d wait. It was a nice day. I was on the porch for ten minutes, and then he pulled up. Vicky wasn’t far behind.”

“Yeah. It was car day. I go to Brian’s family shop and we work on cars. Sorry. I didn’t think you’d be out of work yet.”

“I got off early. What was he saying about this happening a few months ago?” Amira’s eyes turned to me. If her eyes were daggers. I hadn’t told her. I wasn’t going to tell her. Honestly, it was no one’s business, but I broke Dua Lipa’s rules number two and three. I invited him in and I tried to be his friend.

“Vicky,” Amira said.

“Look, it was a bad day, I was lonely, and he just showed up. I shouldn’t have let him in, but I did. He said that he just wanted to talk and that was all it was supposed to be. I didn’t mean...” I didn’t feel bad about losing my temper. I couldn’t just bottle it up.

“You didn’t mean to fuck him? Cause that’s what it sounds like,” Amira said.

“You wouldn’t understand. You couldn’t. You’re strong. You don’t need the support of someone else.”

“Can we not?” Oz asked. He sounded uncomfortable. Amira was ready to bite back, but she looked at him and took a deep breath.

“Next time he shows up, call the police. I’m lucky I showed up in time,” Amira said, then leaned back in her chair, having said her piece. I felt like crying. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but I knew that if Oz wasn’t there, I would’ve been stupid and let him in again. I knew better, but it was like it was programmed into me. I couldn’t say no to Damien.

“I’m sorry Oz. This is my fault.”

“I’m not mad,” He said matter-of-factly.

“You’re not?”

“Nope. Should I be?” He stood and got a glass out of the cabinet.

“You got punched because of me.”

He shrugged. “I feel like I was just in the blast radius. It’s Damien. This is something that you just expect. He’s a controlling bully, and it doesn’t surprise me that he’s a possessive ex. I knew about this going in. It’s OK.”

Amira raised her hands. “Why can’t you be a girl?” She said in frustration.

“Well actually…” He began. Just as he started speaking, the garage door started opening. I knew it was Brian. He and Amira were the only ones with garage door openers. His old truck rumbled as he pulled in to the garage. I went out to spot for him. He got it in, barely. We had to fold down his mirrors so that he could get his big and old truck inside next to Oz’s car. He got out of the truck with three oven trays, which I took from him and put into the oven, and a DM screen.

“Hey Amira. Umm Oz. What happened to your face?” He asked.

“Damien,” Oz said.

“Uuh. Oh.”

“Yeah. Damien was here, and we have said what we need to on that,” I responded quickly.

“Alright,” Brian said, and took off his green jacket, placing it on the back of a chair. “Uhh, I painted the car while you were out. I think I can umm, finish it up from here.”  
I nodded and sat at the table. Oz stood. “Well, I don’t want to put a hamper on your night. I just left my phone.” He turned and picked up the phone that I had dumbly missed. It had slid to be partially hidden by the T.V.

“Nope.” Brian grabbed him and sat him back at the table.

“We’re playing D&D, and our party is short a rogue,” Amira said, getting into her backpack and distributing character sheets.

“D&D? Never played it,” Oz said.

“Well you’re gonna learn tonight. I’m the sorcerer, and we have an NPC Cleric. Vic is our fighter. We need a rogue to round us out,” Amira said.

It was a fun night. Oz was rough at first, and self-conscious, which I thought was cute, but he turned out to be a pretty swift player. We gamed well past our bedtimes, to the point where Brian, our DM, was falling asleep during a combat, so we ended it and he headed home. Amira had to go too, so Oz stayed and helped me clean up. His eye was looking better and the swelling had gone down.

“So, I have a question,” I eventually asked. We had finished cleaning and I was sitting in the crook of his arm on the couch. We had put on Parks and Rec again.

“I might have an answer.”

“Why didn’t you fight back today? With your abilities, you could have flattened Damien.”

He sighed. “It wasn’t worth it. So what if I get knocked around. People like him get off on controlling people’s responses. If you don’t respond the way he wants, then he ends up leaving you alone.”

I was silent. I couldn’t fathom having that kind of self-discipline. I snuggled closer to him. He didn’t seem to mind.

“Also, my answer is yes. I know you’ve been itching to ask all night.”

I looked up at him. He was smiling. I reached up and kissed him gently, then we sat silently and watch Parks and Rec until we both fell asleep.


End file.
